


Dear Diary...

by Amacgyver



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Anxiety, Diary/Journal, Panic Attacks, Story, macgyver - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:44:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15830262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amacgyver/pseuds/Amacgyver
Summary: Bozer told Mac to write down his feelings... so he did.





	Dear Diary...

**Author's Note:**

> English ain't my first language, love.

~~Dear diary~~ (no too cheesy...)

 

So... I don't really know where to start... I never did anything of the sort before. But Bozer said it would be nice to do it (remember, if anyone asked, it was Bozer's idea. You know who to blame).

 

I guess it all started with this last mission (20/08/18), in Arizona. Everyone was shocked by what happened... By what I did... 

I guess I should run through what happened. To remember. To explain myself, to myself.

 

Matty had a call about a terrorist organisation that was building up in Tuscon, in Arizona’s Sonoran Desert. And so she sent the whole team, Bozer, Leanna, Riley, Jack and I. We barely go on missions all together anymore, so we felt like this one was more important than any others. 

 

"What's the plan when we get there?" Leanna asked.

"We should set us up and gather as much info on them as we can, and then we can ask matty what to do from then," Jack replied.

 

He likes taking the lead, I find... Even when sometimes Matty would put  _me_ in charge, Jack would like to overthrown. Which is fine, cause I hate being the decision maker. I feel like it's one thing the team doesn't get about me. I'm not my father. I'm not the big guy in charge of operations. I'm not the boss. I'm just the brain. I know how to do basic chemistry and calculations, not taking life changing decisions. 

 

"Or Mac can cook us something," Bozer outed, which made me bust out of my bubble.

"Yeah, maybe," I replied.

 

I wasn't really in the talkative mood. The last mission we had, in Oklahoma, didn't go according to plan and it was still on my mind.

 

**Why do they put so much blind faith in ME ?**

 

All the damn time they all rely on me. Why? I'm not the boss?

 

Anyways, when we landed we did as Jack said we would. We all settles in this, quite nice to be honest, hotel room and read the dossier that was sitting on our bed, then had a conference call with Matty where she told us what we would have to do the next morning. Felt simple. A little too simple. 

We all went to bed that night with no worries.

 

Well all, but me. Well I don't know what. But I do know I had some worries. There were some inconstitancies in Matty's plan. Not that I don't trust her, she is the best we ever had. But this wasn't the first terrorist encounter we had. Yes we knew how to go about with them. But something always goes wrong. It always goes wrong. And when something goes sideways, there is nothing else to do but to rely on me. What was I about to do then? What do  _I_ have to plan to save people's ass?

Those were my worries.

 

To make a long story short, Matty's plan took a turn quickly. The terrorists noticed us right away and had to  _improvise_ . 

I had a panic attack.

I could feel my heartbeat through my head, my hands and my feet. I could feel my legs shaking and wanting to give up. I started seeing blurry and my head started spinning. I hols on to Boz to breath a little.

I was fine.

And then I went into action.

 

After work, everyone was congratulating me for saving the day. They kept saying how they didn't know how they would do this without me. 

 

I didn't know what to say.

I didn't want to tell them the truth

Cause I know they won't like what they hear.

But after Bozer realized I had to take a step down to breath (aka my panic attack), he said I should write down my feelings. I'm not quite sure where he was going with this or if this is anything like he was expecting but... here's the truth.

 

I always burried myself in maths and science. It gave me purpose. It made me clsoer to my dad... well when he was still there. Inventing things, creating things were my escape. My escape from the bullying at school for being the "nerd," my escape even when my dad left. My escape from the pain. When I started to cry I picked up the nearest book I had, most often than not science related, and started to read until I feel asleep, or until I couldn't feel the pain anymore. Hell when I have an anxiety or a panic attack the first thing I do to catch my breath is start doing equations in my head. It keeps me focused and grounded. 

 

When putting so much faith in me, they don't realize they put faith in my wounded scars. They think they are trusting my wisdom; when in fact they are trusting my pain.

 

Because at the end, wisdom is nothing more than healed pain.

 

 

 


End file.
